The Siren
by lillelouis
Summary: Years after the Tashbaan war, brothers Cor and Corin come upon a Lady of the Lake. Been a while since anything Narnian got published here. I apologize - this is me getting back into the swing of things.


Disclaimer: I own naught.

AN: _It's been a while since I've written (or read) anything Narnia - so this is sorta to get me back in the fairytale mindset of things, I think. Promised sequels to other stories are being written, but first: A companion to The Naiad_.

* * *

The Siren

The travelers came upon the pond just as their courage wavered and a thirst ravaged their throats. The lovely pool laid at the bottom of the tiny glen, ensconced by rippled rocks and secretive crevasses; moss and lichen kissing the green, mirror surface in tender licks. In _this_ glen there was a scent of earth and moist stones. A peek of blue sky among the firs. In the distance birds called out though none passed their beaks in the reflecting pool. The whistle of grasshoppers chirped placidly. Somewhere hidden, in its little hidey-hole, a frog squawked once in a while.

The men had come upon the glen by chance and were wary at first glance until they saw before them a striking figure. A woman dressed in linens of strange origin and coils of string bound up her pale arms. Fingers hang limply by her Medusaean hips and slender thighs. Elbows bent slightly at her nimble waist as a finger or two occasionally ticked in some animal reflex.

Her eyes snapped to the newcomers as they cleared the trees' edge around her home. She watched from atop a rock with wide eyes. Calmly gazing as though perfectly at ease with their returning curiosity; as they watched her water skaters slipped the folds of her gown, back into the pond from whence they came, and a slug slowly slid down her left leg until it once again touched wet stone.

They watched her with an awe rarely reserved as she slipped her perch to fold gently on a sloping slate that lay in perfect in eye height with one of the young men. With a cautious glance at his fellows he approached her; with cautious words and an outstretched hand. She watched the gesture and mimicked it, another unnatural tick belayed her otherwise calm nature.

As their fingers touched, his sweaty and trembling, hers sublimely warm and wet, an exhale was drawn from the man. His eyes scoured her face for signs of malice, but found none, as hers remained transfixed on his hand. Her gentle fingers folded perfectly into his and gripped with surprising strength, not pulling, but merely gripping as though she had longed for touch for years only to have been deprived.

Her eyes were pearly white with darkened irises, almost the color of a moray eel's home and a pupil so black it seemed to have never been kissed by sun.

"Cor," one man, a mirror image of the one who prostrated before the exotic woman, called, but was silenced with a hand reaching back.

"Madam," the calm man said in greeting as he bowed to the lady. "It comes to the attention of our men that a beast has made a home in these woods."

Her black eyes tilted as did her head. "Sire," she whispered. She had a melodic voice, evident even by that one word.

He swallowed a nervous shiver. "Madam."

Behind them his brother, in fact his twin, waved their faithful soldiers around to form a semicircle around the future king and his witness. A crowd of men, all of a certain rugged appearance, stepped lightly a ring around their prize.

"Have you seen such a beast, Madam?" the crown prince asked the fair lady.

Her sable eyes took in their movements with lightning distraction and refocused on the king.

"Cor," the younger of the two, if only by mere minutes, demanded once again; to which his brother reached back a hand once again. Hand seeking his sword, but unwilling to draw it.

The Disappearance of the Narnian kings and queens had left many a creature without reason to live. Without council to follow or morals to guide them. Many Animals withdrew back into their hovels and caves when the sovereigns remained lost. It was not their fault. "It is not your fault," Cor echoed his own thought with a whisper as he reached out again. "Please," he whispered. "Come down, Milady."

Her eyes ticked from hand to man and back again before left followed right and she took it. Her long legs unfolded as she descended her slate throne and stepped into supple grass for the first time in years.

"Allow me to escort you back home," Cor whispered. As a boy he had once found a dog by an abandoned cart. "Please," The dog had been mangy and starved and reared its teeth at him. It had been shy to the touch and weary of men and boys.

As the lady climbed down her appearance became visible to all the soldiers gathered. White scars traveled the length of her bare legs. Filth ran in rivulets down her skin. Her nails were black and rippled with blood crusting the edges. A thin film sat on her hair and face as though she had been submerged in still water for far too long and Cor's heart ached.

Back then Cor had stolen a loaf of bread for the dog and coaxed it out of hiding.

"Sire?"

His men had hands on their swords. Large men with the surliest expressions in all of Archenland, strongest and most loyal of the new generation, to serve the future king for as long as they possibly could. The old king of Anvard had learned valuable lessons from the old kings and queens of the north.

In that glen, on that day, young Cor need not do more than send his commander a glance for the man to relax his stance and loosen the grip on his broadsword, _Tooth_.

"King Cor," she suddenly whispered and caressed the side of his face. Her feverish hand left a wet trail of pond water down his face. He retreated and reclaimed her hand in his own. "Come away, Brother," Corin beckoned in a low voice, but drew the gaze of their catch regardless.

"My lady," he asked. The maid refocused on the young king. "Do you know where you are?"

She looked around in apparent wonder, disregarding the knights surrounding their king. Or simply blind to their presence. "I'm home," she said in her lark voice. Her colorless eyes ran the edges and lines of the glen as though seeing things no human could. She suddenly smiled and seemed in a twist of mood to disregard the entire troop. "I'm home," she whispered as a wind flowed through the firs and beeches. The sound of rattling leaves seeming to answer her plea. "Father," she whispered and leaned back her head in ecstasy.

Cor's heart ached as he looked her deep in the eyes. "No," He gave her hand a squeeze. "You're far from home, dear girl."

To this she laughed openly. "You're one of theirs," she exclaimed. She looked at his twin brother with the same laugh. "I see the Lord and Lady of the board in your eyes," She suddenly gripped his cheek firmly. His men drew swords, but held back when she did nothing more than stare into his eyes.

Cor felt his brother's anxiety behind him, but held up a hand to warn them back. They would not kill another Narnian. He was done killing Narnians and prayed his son would never have the misfortune. In a moment of weakness anger claimed him, anger over the abandonment of the kings and queens of Narnia. They had recklessly taken off into the woods, hunting the White Stag.

His eyes narrowed unconsciously and in response hers did as well.

That was all it took.

In the blink of an eye, the space between two beats, she reared up and struck him with unnatural strength and sharp claws. Her mouth split open in a too wide shark's grin. He heard the sound of jaws snapping and felt the displacement of air just as he flinched back and rolled to the ground.

A man notched an arrow and loosed it upon the pond-lady without second thought; and just like that, another Narnian was dead.

 _Just like that_ , Cor thought on his back in the grass, _I have failed once more_.

" _Cor_!" his brother wailed and was with him a second later. The men opened a vein in the lady's neck though she appeared dead and watched her bleed into the grassy bank and the pond beyond. All with the expressions of men with heavy obligations.

"Fetch the horses," Corin ordered two men who pirouetted and sprinted off to do as bid. "Cor- _Cor_!" he yelled as his brother's eyes glassed over.

The future king reached up a hand and touched it to his brother's face, unbeknownst leaving a smear of blood. "Corin."

"No," the younger twin barked. "No!" He reached down a hand and stuck a finger into the garish wounds on his brother's upper chest, stemming the flow of blood almost completely. "Not today," he panted as one of his men brought him bandages and clean water. "Not now," he panted at his brother. As he looked Cor in the eyes he found him staring back with a slim smirk. "Do you hear me?" he demanded.

Cor's hand had slid from his twin's face to rest on a muscled forearm.

"Cor!"

"I hear you, Brother."

Corin huffed, " _Good_ ," and finished wrapping the wound.

"Sire?" a man asked him.

Corin glanced up. "He'll live. Help me," Together the two men leveraged their injured king to his feet and supported him back to his faithful Horse. Suddenly Corin grinned and huffed. "You know who'll be _really_ mad?"

His brother looked over, light and trusting. "Who?"

"Your wife," Corin huffed as he struggled under his brother's weight.

The future king moaned, not in pain of body, but rather the arduous snub in his near future. Aravis had become a woman of poise and strength. She had become a master of strategy against never ending unrest in the wide world around them and a soothing voice in Cor's ear as he fell asleep each night.

Cor wondered often about the world his son would one day rule. He praised his wife's wisdom and serenity, but lamented the loss of his own teachers and protectors. Cor and Corin had both spent summers in the presence of the kings and queens and he was saddened to think his son would never experience the awe of standing in the presence of the Magnificent. Would never experience the rains of spring from the cliffs of Cair Paravel and simultaneously reveled that his son _would_ see the magnificence of Archenland's open plains.

Cor often privately wondered if the kingdom of Narnia was only that which was blanketed in blessed grass, bejeweled by blooming fruit, or ensconced by blue cliffs – or if the Kingdom of the Deep, the kingdom of which those four were crowned, was far reaching beyond all man made boarders.

After all Aslan _had_ made them Kings and Queens of North, South, East and West. Kings and Queens of _all_ of Narnia.

He looked around and wondered if perhaps that counted _his_ home as well.

* * *

Neither of the brothers saw their two most loyal soldiers gently wrap the woman's corpse and lower her reverently back into the lake wherein she had spent the last months of her life. No witnesses were there for the water burial, but for the two men who remained. Two soldiers peered into the sky and sent swift prayers to Aslan to take His daughter back.

When they reopened their eyes a breeze caressed the leaves in the trees and the pond was empty.

 **The End.**


End file.
